Vladimir Nabokov. La Veneciana
Vladimir Nabokov. LA VENEZIANA
The first thing that happened in the park was that a large, cold drop of water fell from a branch, inside the Colonel's collar. And actually it was this drop that made the cup overflow. After a masticating movement of his lips, as though rehearsing the words, he abruptly thundered: "I warn you, Frank, in my house I shall not stand for any i adventures of the French-novel genre. Furthermore, McGore is my friend—can you understand that or not?"
Frank picked up the racquet Simpson had forgotten on the bench the previous day. The damp had turned it into a figure eight. Rotten